Rescue Me Redux
by Swordsman289
Summary: *Rewrite of the Original* How far will you go to save someone you knew? When a close friend of Ratchet and Louis is kidnapped, they'll have to make difficult decisions to get her back. Or die trying. *Rating may change*
1. Hell

**A/N: Hey there! I would like to apologize for the lack of updates for the past months. It's been a hectic school year for me. Now, you're probably wondering why I'm rewriting my original story, Rescue Me. Well, it's because I've been suffering a major Writer's Block, so I wasn't able to write during those months i was silent. When i was rereading the original Rescue Me, it seemed a bit rushed and lacks the style that i currently have. Therefore, I decided to rewrite it so I can reinvigorate my mind and re-inspire me. So without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter and please leave a Review. More Reviews will boost up my inspiration and confidence.**

Just a little warning: It's a lot darker than the Original one, so please tell me if i have to boost up the rating in case.

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Hell…

No other words can describe Prisoner #240123's predicament…just plain hell.

She was alone…curled in a ball in a corner of a cramped, dank, and sunless prison cell—blocked by an impenetrable laser gate. She herself was filthy: her body frail, malnourished; her foggy, sapphire eyes have sunken into their eye sockets from the abuse and treatment; her prison clothes—although an orange, drab, one piece suit—was covered in grime, cuts, and her own blood and tears; her captors, in every sense of brutality, have tortured her—trying to pry valuable information from her.

The captors, malicious and warped, devised many cruel tortures to make her endure—from the standard to the perverse. They water boarded her, refusing to give her air to the extent of her lungs burning till the very last second. They poured an extremely irritant compound—stronger than pepper spray—into her eyes and forcing the substance down her throat, causing her to feel being burned alive. They tied her onto a board with her limbs tied to a wheel and axle mechanism each; they would crank levers that would stretch her limbs painfully to the extent of dislocating every single limb. Finally, the most recent and horrific act of her captors, they would restrain her to a table, stripped of her garments, with an array of objects and they would…

Her body tensed and her eyes shut tightly, reacting to the memory. A faint, muffled cry escaped her throat and her stomach lurched. She was violated—they violated her to get what they wanted. She felt dirty, unclean, her innocence taken away from her—she wanted to die, there and now after the incident.

However, her heart barely continues to be strong.

She would rather die before she will give up her friends.

The soft "pitter-patter" footsteps of one of her captors echoed through the quiet cell wing. The footsteps stopped at her cell and the laser gate suddenly was deactivated.

"Get up worm…" a deep, gravelly male voice croaked. It was her guard, coming to get her for "the daily routine."

Prisoner #240123's ears twitched at the voice, but she refuses to move from her corner. She growled menacingly slightly at the voice. Without turning around, her hand moves up above her shoulders and gives the one-finger-salute to the guard.

"Go…screw…yourself…you fascist…bug…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

This, of course, did not go well with the guard. In a split-second, the guard reached to the prisoner and brutally swung a baton at the side of her head. Once it connected, Prisoner #240123 felt sharp pain and saw stars. She screamed out in pain, swayed to her side, and collapsed to the ground from the pain. She gave out raspy breaths, trying to dull the pain as she regained her vision from the blow. In her vision, she saw her guard's insect like lower body and legs.

"Know your place…whore…" the guard growled menacingly. Prisoner #240123's eyes painfully move up and saw her guard's entire form. An insect and reptilian hybrid like body, big in frame, and wore a combat suit with shoulder mounted plasma cannons. His arms were long, and his hands were two very sharp claws. His head structure was the most fearsome: he had an oversized under jaw with large fangs from both upper and lower jaws protruding from his mouth. He had a permanent scowl and his eyes—oh his eyes—were a deathly yellow glow.

The prisoner's eyes watered with pain and fear as her mind recovered from the blow. Standing before her was a Cragmite Warrior—one of the elite forces in the Cragmite army. Cragmites are blood thirsty aliens that caused the eradication of several races millennia before. The Warrior's claw grabbed the scruff of the prisoner's neck in a vice grip, causing her to wince in pain. The Warrior then proceeded to drag the prisoner out of the cell. She had no energy to resist as her legs scraped against the cold, metal floor.

As the prisoner was dragged from her cell and onto the torture chamber, she encountered a number of the Cragmite race. From warriors, to hunters, and even to the lowly spawner, they berated her with demeaning insults.

Whore…

Bitch…

Slut…

Few even had the gall to say that she enjoyed the new, "kinky" torture and would gladly give it to her again…

The Prisoner's eyes clenched shut and tears threatened to leak out. Not due to the fact that a Spawner was chewing on one of her ears painfully. It was due to the horrid memories of her rape days ago; the feeling of being powerless—unable to stop them from violating her. Her eyes flashed open and her pupils compressed and she was physically shaking. A lone Hunter gave a toothy, devious grin as one of his claws tread dangerously up and down the Prisoner's inner thigh. The memories flashed in her mind, and she tasted something vile in her throat. In a split of a second, she purged out her bare stomach acid, as she was neglected food for the past few days. The Cragmites then boomed out in laughter at her misery. The Prisoner's ears drooped down to her skull and she shut her eyes, sobbing hysterically in pain, humiliation, and being nearly violated again. The prisoner's escort continued to laugh darkly as he continued to drag her by the scruff of her neck. Her knees and knuckles were covered in dirty scuffs from the unsanitary, metallic floor. If she were to get out alive, she would need several types of antibiotics to recover.

After what seemed to be an eternity to the prisoner, they reached the room of her current nightmares.

The room of her own version of deeper Hell…

The room where they mercilessly beat her down…

The room where they stripped her innocence away…

The torture room…

The prisoner knew what was going to happen to her. The Cragmites wanted to pry the information out of her again. As the escort began to painfully secure her into a chair, she tried to steel herself for the inevitable pain. She couldn't break—she refused to break. She didn't want to get her friends killed because of her. When the escort finished prepping the prisoner for her torture session, he proceeded to painfully punch her across the face. The prisoner felt considerable amount of pain, blood oozed out of her mouth and nose, but she refused to cry at the current situation.

_Please…be strong…be strong for him…_ she mentally pleaded to herself.

The Cragmite, satisfied with the beating he gave her, ceased his assault and stare straight at her face with a sneer. The Prisoner's face was covered in bruises and cuts from the knuckles of the Cragmite. Her nose was broken and her lower lip was split, blood oozed from both wounds. However, there were no signs of tears on her cheeks. She held them in, filled with resolve and strength; she didn't want to give the Cragmites any more satisfaction to her pain. The Prisoner's tongue swirled around in her closed mouth, gathering as much spit and congealed blood she could. In an instant, she spat with all of her strength at the Cragmite's face. Obviously enraged at the act, the Cragmite slowly wiped away the mixture of blood and saliva and raised his hand, his sharp claws ready to shred her to ribbons.

_"Enough."_ Another male voice boomed throughout the room. It was more gravely and hoarse than most of the other Cragmites in the area.

The owner of the voice soon emerged from the shadows from a corner. It was another Cragmite, but he was more weathered and had a deadly aura of a veteran that emanated from his form. His fangs were fractionally longer than most other of his fellow soldiers. His armor was covered with a collection of scuffs, bullet depressions, and several medals—testaments of his long time as a soldier. His face, unlike his fellow soldiers, was covered with harsh, gruesome yet healed scars.

The Prisoner's escort looked at the Veteran warrior with a small hint of disbelief. "General Lazaravich!" the escort exclaimed. "Why did you stop me? This bitch had the gall to—"

The General, Lazarevic, waved a dismissive claw at the soldier. "All in due time, Warrior..." he replied in calm, yet poisonous tone. His mouth slowly curved into a sneer as he added, "We want the torture to last, don't we?" The lowly soldier soon got wind of the message, his own mouth twitched into a cruel grin. Lazarevic then ordered to either side of him. "Get the water and the rags. One of you, hold her chair down."

Emerging from the shadows behind him were three other Cragmite Hunters. One held a small rag and the other had two 2 Liter water jugs with him. The third Cragmite went to the prisoner's chair and held it down from behind. The one with the rags went to her side and tightly covered her face with the rags. The Cragmite with the water jugs brought one with him to the other side of the prisoner and opened the cap. He looked at his General, silently asking him to proceed.

The General soon gave a small, brisk nod at the soldier. "Proceed."

All of them were chuckling as the one with the water slowly poured the water onto the rags covering the Prisoner's face. She began to thrash as the water dangerously began to drown her. The torture was similar to the classic waterboarding, but this one prevented her from blocking the water from entering her throat. Her air supply was efficiently blocked off as her vision began to fade as she suffered from oxygen deprivation. But before everything went black, the Cragmites stopped pouring water on her face and removed the rag from her face. She inhaled sharply, coughing and gagging on the water and her own blood that was mixed with it. Her lungs were on fire, every breath seemed to only make it worse as her lungs panged with more pain as she inhaled multiple times.

"Are you ready to talk?" Lazarevic asked, although a hint of his mind prayed not, so he could continue with the torture.

The prisoner panting soon abated and she glared at them with cold, steeled, sapphire eyes. "Go to hell!" she responded.

The General, partially filled with glee in mixed with his professionalism, motioned to his soldiers. They nodded and eagerly resumed pouring down the water on her rag covered face. They did this in intervals, each session was worst than the last. Her lungs were drowning from the water and her own spit and blood.

After the sixth time, she barely fought to keep consciousness as the rag was once again removed. Her face and her suit were drenched with water tinged with blood. She convulsed and coughed out water and vomited again soon after. Her captors, including Lazarevic, could only laugh at her pain, their voices echoed in the small room.

As soon as his laughter start, Lazarevic held his hands up, palms forward, signaling his men to cease their laughter. "Are you ready to talk yet?" he asked the Prisoner with his low, raspy voice. All she did was shake her head vigorously and gave them a leer. The General was soon intoxicated with glee as he was able to continue torture her. "Fine, then." He turned his attention to the other Cragmites in the room and ordered, "Get the battery, some jump-starter cables, Nano-tech, and a pair of nails. As long and rusty you can find."

The soldiers immediately imagined what the General had in mind, and they couldn't help but grin alongside each other as they did as they told. After a couple of minutes, they returned with the materials. They set the items in front of her, hoping to start some kind of reaction from the Prisoner. The nails were six inches long and were completely rusted from the tip to the head. The Nano-tech glowed an eerily, corpse yellow glow. She remained unmoved, deadpanned. The sight of the Nano-tech, what was once revered and a literal lifesaver, was unlike its other variations. This version lacked a certain chemical which acts as a numbing agent when the nanites began to move bone fragments back in place and reattach torn muscles and tendons. To her, it was another source of pain.

Lazarevic himself went up to the Prisoner and grabbed the pair of nails. With one in each hand, he lowered his maw so that was directly face to face with her. "Last chance: tell us where he is…or don't. It's more fun that way," he rumbled. The Prisoner gave no response, only continued to give her cold stare.

Lazarevic gave a small grin and, before the Prisoner could ready herself for the inevitable pain, drove each nail through her knee caps, each embedded five inches into bone, flesh, and muscle. The sudden action was a surprise to her; she didn't prepare for it enough. A piercing, loud cry of agony filled the room. Blood began to ooze out from her wounds as she fought back the tears that threatened to leak out. Lazarevic soon attached the metallic ends of the jump-starter cables to each of the nails and also attached the wires to the battery. The other Cragmites soon began to chitter around each other, knowing what the next torture will be and was anticipating the pain she will soon receive.

Lazarevic lowered his head again to stare at the Prisoner eye-to-eye. He gave a small smirk and in a low voice, grumbled, "Tell us what we want to know, then it'll be over."

The Prisoner wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, she spat with all her might at Lazarevic's face. Immediately, the other Cragmites rushed forward and were ready to beat her to an inch of her life, but Lazarevic held the back of his hand to them, signaling them to don't approach. He calmly reached into his pocket, removed a piece of cloth, and wiped the saliva off his face. As soon as he was done, he harshly, forcibly stuffed the piece of cloth down the Prisoner's mouth, effectively gagging her. Lazarevic calmly walked to the battery and, with a flip of a switch, turned the battery on low power. Electricity soon coursed through the Prisoner's body. She felt her body tensed and locked up from the energy and immediate, excruciating pain surged through her muscles. He head was thrown back against the chair, the veins around her neck bulged from the voltage. Her cries of pain were muffled from the rag that was stuffed in her mouth. After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually five seconds, Lazarevic flipped the switch off. The prisoner immediately hunched forward, panting through the cloth as she tried to catch her breath. Sweat and a few tears stained her cheeks, but she willed herself to stay strong.

Lazaravic soon returned to her side and removed the cloth from her mouth. "Still don't want to talk?" He asked. In return, the Prisoner once again spat at his face. Lazarevic had to admit: she was stubborn. Unfortunately, her stubbornness was chipping away at his patience. A small, yet hateful frown formed on his face as he forced the rag back down her throat. He immediately went back to the battery and flipped the switch to medium power. Electricity soon flowed through her veins; all of her muscles were once again painfully locked as her body shook uncontrollably with spasms and seizures. The veins in her neck once again bulged and her mouth was clenched shut tightly as muffled screams of pain escaped her gag.

After another 10 seconds of the painful experience, Lazarevic turned off the battery. The Prisoner went limp and hunched forward, her head drooped: the only signs of life were her shoulders shaking slightly with every breath she took. The General went up to her, pushed her head back so he could look directly into her face, and removed the gag. The Prisoner was barely conscious; her face was drenched in sweat and tears, eyes were red from the pain, blood continued to ooze from her broken nose and split lip. However, she continued to remain strong: she would not tell what the Cragmites wanted to hear.

Lazarevic soon knew of this as he studied her eyes. He slowly shut his eyes and sighed a bit. He wrenched out the nails from her knees, earning another ear-piercing screech. He picked up the Nano-Tech case and couldn't help but crack a smile as he released the Nanites into her. She tensed up and hissed in pain as the Nanites began to "repair" the damage that was done to her. She felt it all: the sharp fragments of bone that were forcibly weaved through her muscles and tendons, lacerating them as they did; the severed muscles and tendons that were manipulated painfully to reattach to their original strands; and the _very_ irritating sensation as the wounds began to close. When it finished, she panted and sweat formed on her brow.

Lazarevic smirked a bit and murmured, "I have to admit, your stubborn resilience is quite impressive. I can tell that _he_ might've fallen for you if he was still with you all the years that he has forgotten you." As soon as the smirk appeared, it vanished and was replaced with a hateful scowl. "But enough is enough. You and your friends have been thorns in my side for far too long…tell us where he is…or…" He raised one claw from his right hand and gently placed it on the hem of her collar underneath her throat. With a small tug, the claw cut through the fabric enough to show a generous view of her cleavage, making her squeak in shock and surprise. A small yet malicious, sick grin adorned his face. "I'll let my troops have their way with you."

That was the breaking point.

Fear and panic immediately filled the Prisoner's being. Her eyes were wide and her ears drooped to her skull. Her heart rate spiked immediately; she could feel the fast, loud beating of her heart against her chest.

"_N-No! Y-You can't!"_ she cried out to them. The memories of the first incident flashed back into her mind; the pain, the cruelty, and the helplessness. "_Please, anything but that!"_

Lazarevic couldn't help but give a small victorious grin as he saw her panicking. His eyes idly rolled to his right to see his troops through his peripheral vision. He could see the perverted, lustful, and anticipating expressions on their faces. He returned his attention to the Prisoner and replied, "It's too late to back out now. You wouldn't give us his location. Now you will have to pay the price…"

"Angela Cross…"

Angela Cross, Bio-Medical scientist for Mega-Corp, and one of the last Lombaxes in their current dimension, couldn't help but be frozen in fear as the Cragmites slowly walked to her. Her breathing stopped, she couldn't breathe as they started to get closer. Her heart was pounding so fast and hard that it made her chest hurt and the others could hear it too. She began to thrash in her seat, but it was futile as the restraints kept her in place. She began to scream hysterically and tears flowed freely down her face. A Cragmite that was closest began to reach out with his claw, the perverted grin still adorned on his face.

In a wild sense of desperation, she finally broke.

"_Veldin! Kyzil Plateau!"_

She immediately clenched her eyes shut and turned away from them, expecting the inevitable act. She waited, but it never came. Confused, Angela opened one eye and peeked towards the Cragmites. Lazarevic had an obvious, victorious, wide smile. The other Cragmites shared his expressions as they halted their approach. Angela soon realized what she has done as her face paled.

"No…" She murmured; the gravity of the situation finally fell on her.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Lazrevic jested. He turned his attention to the other soldiers and ordered, "Spread the word, we have his location. Tell the troops to gear up and proceed as planned."

"Yes, sir!" they barked in return as they left.

Lazarevic soon turned back to Angela and said, "Congratulations…you helped us kill your best friends."

Angela was petrified. She didn't respond, she didn't look at him, she did nothing. Her eyes were filled with despair. Her body shook faintly from what she did. She did not notice the guard from earlier release her from the chair and took her back to her cell. She did not pay attention to the Cragmites, cheering at the General's success. Nor did she acknowledge the Cragmites continue to degrade her with insults and beatings. The only thing on her mind was about what happened.

_No…I…I…betrayed him…_she wallowed in her thoughts. _I…I got him…k-killed…_

They reached Angela's cell as tears leaked out from her eyes. The guard deactivated the laser gates and ungracefully threw her back into the cell. She didn't make a noise and didn't flinch as her body hit the ground. The guard could only laugh in pity as he reactivated the gates and left.

Seconds passed….then minutes…then an hour. Angela curled into a ball and hugged her knees close to her chest. With all her might, she wailed and screamed; tears flowed freely down her face. She made no attempts to stop them; she was too deep in despair and sorrow. Her cries and screams reverberated throughout her prison, which echoed mournful tones throughout the halls. After a few hours, her cries subsided, but she couldn't stop the tears from flowing. She no longer had the will to live. Her heart ached tremendously, and she knew it was all over. She could only pray for a miracle to happen.

_Ratchet…please…forgive me…and…I hope Louis…is with you…to help…_ she prayed as she fell into a sorrowful, unmerciful slumber.


	2. Brotherly Reunion

**A/N: sorry for the long wait. Marching band and high school got in the way. Also, a big thanks to Red Mage 04 for proofreading this beforehand. You're amazing, dude.**

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In a United Nations Coalition transport high in orbit of a desert planet, a veteran soldier stared through the cockpit's blast shield windows. For most other people, the planet would be considered boring and unattractive, but for the soldier, it gave him a sense of familiarity and a planet that he could call his second home. A faint, yet reminiscing smile formed on the veteran's mouth. His calm, calculating dark brown eyes relaxed as he continued to stare at the planet. He raised his armored right hand and gently placed it against the cool glass of the cockpit.

"I'm finally back…" the veteran murmured.

"Commander!" another voice erupted behind him. The veteran turned behind him and saw that one of his soldiers, a former British Special Air Services commando, stopped and saluted in greetings. The Commander returned the tradition as the soldier asked, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"You may, Lieutenant Locke" he replied.

The El-Tee gave a bright smile and said, "I just want to say this, Commander, I can't believe we're actually here; the very planet where you met _them!_" The Commander couldn't help but give a small chuckle from the man's enthusiasm. "I'm serious, Commander! I speak for all of the other soldiers in saying that we can't wait to go down there. What does it feel like to be back here in the Solana sector after all that training, Commander Ramirez?"

Captain Louis Ramirez, former Marine of the Force Recon, test pilot of Humanity's first warp drive, and brother figure to Ratchet, Clank, and Clark, couldn't stop the spreading smile on his face. "It's good to be back, Lieutenant," Louis replied. It had been eight years since he crashed landed on Veldin and met Ratchet, Clank, and Clark. He was a grizzled Marine; combat tempered and wise beyond his age from nearly two decades of conflict. He had an impressive record of being a veteran of several major conflicts back on earth; he fought in the War on Terror, aided in the Second Russian Civil War, the Russo-American war, which escalated into World War III. He was a giant among soldiers, standing at a height of six feet and ten inches without his armor. Even though he hadn't reached the age of forty, his light-brown hair had already grayed from his accumulated years in combat. War tended to age an individual faster. His presence practically emanated an aura of professionalism and deadliness.

Louis, Locke, and the others inside the transport were all soldiers, but a different kind of breed. They were many of the hundreds of volunteers that became humanity's first super-soldiers. Hand-pick recommended by their militaries, evaluated and tested to their very limits, they are the tip of the spear in keeping peace within the galaxies. They are given state-of-the-art technology, trained by the very best from every nation, and—to enhance their effectiveness in combat—are physically, surgically, and chemically augmented. Increased muscle mass, nearly indestructible skeletal structure, inhuman reflexes and strength, and other top secret enhancements. One example of their post-augmentation abilities was validated during a strength test; the maximum load they could lift with their arms at the time was at 150 kilograms, without their armors. Overtime, however, their abilities would continue to improve. The United States of America was the first nation to propose such force, but the ranks of the Super-Soldiers included many Tier One operatives around the Earth. Locke, for example, was a commando in the British SAS. Louis's platoon consisted from the Polish GROM, American Navy SEAL and Delta Force, Russian Spetsnaz, German KGR, Swedish SOG, and many more. However, they also include volunteers that passed the requirements from the Marines, Army Rangers, and other foreign Special Forces units.

Louis and his soldiers are designated as Task Force Leviathan, in homage to Polaris galaxy's native Cosmic Leviathans, the deadliest predator of all. They were some of the best Super-Soldiers out from all of the volunteers in the program. They are specialized in Conventional and Guerrilla Warfare, Orbital Drops, and Black Op assignments. Like the Leviathans, each Task Force is trained universally, but each have their own unique strengths: Task Force Mako agents are trained for Naval, Maritime, and Spacecraft insertions and operations; Task Force Specter are for assassinations, recon, and sniper and covert missions; and last but not least, Task Force 141 is utilized for heavy assaults, POW rescues, and one of the first-response teams.

Each Task Force's armory contained hand-crafted, state-of-the art prototypes. Their power armor, for example, is an experimental suit made from Titanium-Carbonox alloy that is extremely resistant to ballistics, thermal damage, and fragmentation. In addition, the suits are EMP and Radiation hardened, withstanding anything short of a close range nuclear explosion. To add to the suit's defenses, each one is installed with a kinetic shield generator that constantly recharges after absorbing damage and high temperatures. In addition, the suits are imbedded with reflective glass optic fibers that enable the user the ability of passive and active optical camouflaged, rendering latest stealth field generation. However, the camouflage only works if the user moves slowly and not under fire. For close-quarters combat and low-profile assassinations, each suit is installed with a blade in each gauntlet, with ballistic launch options, similar to the Spetsnaz's trademarked ballistic knives. The boots for the suits are preinstalled with jet-thrusters at the soles, effectively allowing the user to safely descend from an orbital drop. There is an advance Heads Up Display installed in each helmet's visor that provides tactical information for the user, such as enemy positions, maps, intelligence on the battlefield, etc. All of the suit's systems are powered by a Micro-Fusion cell pack, which generates over 478 Megawatts of electricity similar to a small nuclear fission plant without meltdown fears. Despite the technological advantage, the Task Force agents are still human, and can succumb to injury.

Although they were still in the mid-twenties of the 21st century, the Task Forces' weapons received a major overhaul in recent years. A majority of their firearms, from assault rifles to light machineguns, were designed as Gauss weaponry. Gauss rifles and other firearms are based off of their own galactic fleet's primary weapons, the rail guns. The Gauss weapons work on a similar principle as the rail guns: electrically powered ordnances that accelerate a plasma-coated, conductive projectile along electromagnetic rails. Each weapon is powered by small electron charge packs, which generates enough power for a year and are much cheaper than their micro-fusion counterparts. The only other addition that makes their Gauss weaponry different than the standard rail gun is that it could be fired in either semi-auto or fully automatic, unlike the rail gun, without sacrificing accuracy and stopping power.

In short, the soldiers of the Task Forces are extremely deadly and should not be trifled with.

Louis then remembered part of the reason why they were back in the Solana galaxy. "Is our gift to Ratchet still in the back, Lieutenant?" he asked.

The British man couldn't help but chuckle faintly from his Commander's constant worrying. _That's the sixth time he asked me that…_he mused in his thoughts. He cleared his throat a bit, but he still had the amused smile adorned on his face. "Yes it is, Commander. It's still in its shipping container, fresh from the techie lads from Seongnam."

"Good." An unrelated, but amusing thought occurred in Louis' mind. He cracked a smile and laughed quietly. "You know, it's kinda ironic that our armor's manufacturers are from the same place as the armor of _those_ fictitious super-soldiers."

Locke quickly got the jest and laughed as well. "Well, the bloody difference between us and those wankers is that we could survive both being in twenty feet of water _and_ a twenty foot drop."

Louis' laughs soon increased in mirth from that statement. "You're never going to live that down, eh?"

"Bloody right, you yank. It's one of the concepts of _them_ which I don't understand. Seriously, super-soldiers that were kidnapped at childhood, trained brutally, and augmented with dozens of others to be the guardians of humanity…and they can't survive a simple twenty foot drop or in twenty feet of water. Pathetic, eh?"

"Damn, straight!"

They had another round of laughter, which increased in merriment as the seconds rolled by. After a good thirty seconds of much needed laughter, they soon relaxed, but still smiled at the snarky comments. It was good to laugh once in a while; it reminded them that they're still human, that they're not completely emotionless and robotic. Initially, the media and their families worried that their indoctrination into the super-soldier program would render them as stoic machines; but they were proved wrong; after their training and augmentations, almost all of the recruits returned home to celebrate their success, exultant and proud.

Louis cleared his throat a bit before turning back to the console at the cockpit. "Let me make the call to see if he's at his home at the moment," he informed without looking over his shoulder.

As he was typing the number of Ratchet's home communicator, he didn't notice Locke waving excitedly at the other soldiers to come over. They soon quietly, yet quickly moved towards the cockpit, hovered over Louis' shoulders with anticipation. Louis didn't need to turn around to see that they were there; he could feel their breaths down his neck. He snickered quietly at their positive behavior; they were the best soldiers Earth had to offer, yet they still act like giddy school boys and girls at a candy shop having a sale.

After dialing the last digit for Ratchet's communicator, he started the call, not knowing that it would change everything…

* * *

In a garage on the surface of the desert planet of Veldin, one being was hard at work doing maintenance on his personal fighter. He was on a roller-board, lying on his back underneath the ship. His right hand held a large wrench as he used it to tighten some bolts. The wrench was both a tool and a part of him, as it had vast sentimental value from his adventures. With the last turn to tighten one more screw, he slid himself from the underside of his ship and got up. His chest was bare of any shirt, yet he wore a harness on his chest, green cargo-pants, large leather gloves, and dark blue boots. His fur glistened with sweat from a hard day's work, mixed with the occasional and accidental splotches of oil. His content aqua-green eyes looked at the result of his work, his lion-like tail swished back and forth with glee.

"All done, Aphelion!" he announced with so much satisfaction in his voice.

"Thank you for the maintenance, Ratchet!" his "ship" replied in a delighted, feminine voice. The ship had a personal AI installed; therefore it—she was self-aware and had her own personality. "Honestly, I don't know how that jam in the vertical thrusters happened."

Ratchet, the last male Lombax in the current dimension, one of the heroes of the universe, and brother to Louis Ramirez, couldn't help but laugh at his friend's cheerfulness.

"Well, maybe because you were lazy?" Ratchet joked, snarkily.

"Hey!" the AI retorted in a faux upset tone, "Whose fault is that, eh? You, Louis, Clank, and Clark are the ones saving the Universe constantly. You're taking down bad-guys left and right, and putting me out of a job! Who am I going to shoot down now if all the bad guys are six feet in the ground?"

They both shared a laugh together, basking in the presence of their good friendship. It was nice to be in each other's company, especially since they were the only two around at their home. Clank and Clark were away to do more filming for another Secret Agent Clank movie called "From Reepor With Love." When Louis first heard about the title, initially he reacted with disbelief and he said something on the lines of "I don't know if Sean Connery would approve this or roll in his grave." Ratchet missed the two robots dearly; they've been gone for a few weeks now.

He had to admit to what Aphelion pointed out in her joke: life was getting boring. Ratchet and his brothers were once busy individuals that sought to keep peace and justice throughout the universe. They fought against greedy, corrupt corporate Chairmen; a former villain seeking revenge and a quick path to fame; a mad, robotic genius that had a vendetta against all organics; a malicious, charismatic game-show host that kidnapped and pitted heroes against heroes for the sake of entertainment; an enemy of the Lombaxes that pursued the extermination of all remaining members of that race; and a disheartening and heart wrenching battle with a good friend that almost destroyed the universe in a wild sense of desperation, all for the sake of altering the past. Now, Ratchet was lucky to even get a small assignment from the Galactic Rangers. All he did was work on maintenance on Aphelion, workout and train, eat, sleep, and repeat.

Ratchet gave a small sigh as soon as his laughter died off. _I guess…no one needs a hero now…_he pondered sadly in his thoughts. He looked up to Aphelion and tried to give a small smile. "Hey, if you want to fly around for a bit, go ahead," he offered.

If Aphelion had a face, she would give a small look of concern. "Are you sure you won't be lonely?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Ratchet smiled faintly, but reassuringly and nodded. "I'm sure, go on, Aphelion."

The front of Aphelion's ship bowed for a bit, her own gesture of a nod. She used her vertical thrusters to lift up from the ground a bit and activated her main thrusters. She flew by Ratchet, heading towards the blue sky to soar for a bit. Ratchet watched her disappear into the clouds before heading towards the door in his garage leading to his subterranean home. After the incident at the Great Clock, Ratchet move from his shared apartment at Kerwan to escape from the incessant media, as they pestered him and his friends every day. As he walked down the stairs, the home's automated lights turned on, illuminating the residence. It was a small residence; the living room composed most of the space, which served as a living room, kitchen, and dining; there are four bedrooms, one for Louis, himself, one for Clank and Clark to share in, and one for a guest, which was rare but does happen. Each of the bedrooms has their own small bathroom with showers. Ratchet went to the living room's coffee table and placed his wrench on it and picked up a small, framed picture. He couldn't help but smile proudly at the picture: it was him several years ago in his dress blues and Marine cap; a mameluke sword in its sheath on his side; and a reserved, yet proud smile adorned his face. Out of all of the thoughts that ran in his head, one was the most dominate of them all.

_Was I really that small…?_

Ratchet had good reason to ponder on such a question. Compared to his physique he currently had, Ratchet was barely tall enough to reach the Louis' waistline back then and he lacked a bit of muscle growth. Now, he was a few inches passed Louis' shoulders. Ratchet had an excellent combination of agility and muscle strength. His muscles had indeed gain mass and strength dramatically over the years, but they weren't over-exaggerated like that of a muscle builder on the holos or the time his name was slandered at Dreadzone for publicity. It was almost a stocky build but within a lithe frame. His arms and legs were well defined and chiseled and his abdominal muscles were definite, but his gold and white fur hid the lines of his physique. However, he did accumulate a collection of scars from his life of being a commando and adventurer. Underneath his fur, if one looked close enough, he had small, healed scuffs and cuts throughout his forearms and healed gashes on his back. The most gruesome of all was a healed blaster wound near his liver, a grim reminder of his recklessness during the Drek crisis.

He ran his gloved hand through the tuft of fur on top of his head, smiling softly as he placed the picture back on the table. He then walked to his personal quarters to rinse off the grim, sweat, and oil from his fur. The picture was from his graduation from the Marine academy at Paris Island. At first, it was for Ratchet to learn discipline on Louis' part and he loathed the thought, but Ratchet's initiative changed. Ratchet trained side-by-side with fellow recruits, and was immediately amazed at the dedication and honor they've put into their training. The men and women of the armed forces of Earth make the ultimate sacrifice every single day to preserve the ideas of freedom from tyranny and peace; he was honored and proud to serve with those individuals.

He soon entered his bedroom, which still was messy despite the training and discipline Louis instilled into him. There was a pile of dirty laundry that surrounded his laundry basket, magazines and books in a disorganized pile on his nightstand, and his bed was unkempt. The only things that were put away neatly were Ratchet's old Hyper-Flux armor at one corner of his room and his arsenal in a connecting room. The armor pieces were placed with care on the armor's stand, polished and ready to use at a moment's notice.

He walked to the door of the arsenal and typed in the security code in the keypad. The door to Ratchet's weapon gallery slid open. The familiar smell of cleaning oil created a sense of nostalgia in Ratchet's mind. That and the combination of the dull boredom had left Ratchet pining for a bit of the past. Adventure and excitement with Louis occupying his mind, he casually walked through the displays of weapons he had accumulated over the years. The fact that he needed a whole room to store them was in itself astonishing. His hand grazed over a familiar blue and black gun, the R.Y.N.O., with its twin, another R.Y.N.O., below it. In his youth they were the most powerful weapons that Solana had ever seen, it had cost his and Louis's entire life savings up to that point to buy the first one but had been worth every penny. The second one, however, Louis earned in a different method, one that involved dangling the Shady Salesman off the side of a bridge in Blackwater. He grabbed hold of its handles and started to lift it, muscles straining. Grunting, he hefted the behemoth to his shoulder and pointed it at a blank wall.

"Heh, lighter than I remember..." he mumbled to himself, his arms still in control of carrying the large weapon. "Like lifting a ship's plasma cannon!" He grunted. His memories soon drifted back to the time when he tried to lift the R.Y.N.O. in an epic fighting pose, but his strength in the past gave way to the horrible balance he remembered all too well. He gingerly placed it back in its rack and exited the armory,

Ratchet soon walked into his personal bathroom and began to strip himself of his oil-stained clothes. He tossed the laundry ungracefully into a pile in the bathroom, walked into the stall, and started the shower. The warm water trailed down his fur and released the tension that built up in his muscles. Ratchet sighed with relief as he continued to rinse off the grime and oil from his body. As he finished rinsing off, he then heard his computer ringing from his bedroom. Groaning a bit, Ratchet turned off the water and did his best to dry himself with a towel. He quickly tied the towel around his waist with a hasty knot and ran to his computer. When he reached his computer, a pop-up on his monitor alerted that he was receiving a call from a classified caller. Ratchet was immediately filled with worry; who was trying to contact him?

He tentatively answered the call and was immediately greeted by a familiar face. A grin began to tug at the corners of Ratchet's mouth as he breathed out the name of the person on the screen.

"Louis?"

* * *

"Hey Ratchet, been a long time, eh?" Louis replied through the video chat, a grin forming on his own face. It has been six months since the Great Clock incident, which Louis immediately left after to participate in the Task Force program. He soon noticed that Ratchet was bare of any clothing except for the towel wrapped around his waist for modesty's sake and that Ratchet's golden fur was still wet and clung to his body. "Guess I interrupted something?"

Ratchet glanced down at his body and chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I was in the shower when you called me," he explained, the grin had never left his face. "You still have that infamous sense of timing of yours." The two shared a good laugh with each other, both longed for it. Their shoulders shook with mirth and their eyes filled with brotherhood.

As soon his chuckling subbed, Louis eyes returned to the monitor and idly looked around for another pair of people. "Hey, where are Clank and Clark, Ratchet?" Louis asked when he realized they weren't there.

"Oh, they're still shooting scenes for their new _Secret Agent Clank_ movie," Ratchet replied. He then soon noticed the nineteen other human, eager looking faces that were over Louis' shoulders. A look of confusion appeared on Ratchet's face as he didn't recognize them. "Um, who are they?"

Without looking his shoulders, Ramirez jerked his thumb back to the other Super-Soldiers and replied, "These are my fellow troops, Ratchet. They're all under my command." He glanced over his shoulders and noticed that some of the female agents had a faint blush on their cheeks. Apparently, seeing Ratchet in a live video-conference was not the _only_ reason they were amazed, as their eyes were drawn to Ratchet's toned torso, glistened and matted with water still. He gave a small chuckle and jested, "It seems that you have already made some fans, brother."

Realized that they were caught, one of the female agents gave small, yet sly smile. "Well, we can't help it, Commander. His graduation photo and the images from the news don't do him justice," the former Canadian JTF2 agent giggled.

Ratchet's cheeks soon heated up and were tinted in a light red color as he bashfully rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, u-um…thanks?" Ratchet replied as a small yet shy smile adorned on his face. Although he used to be in relationships with a few women in his life, they didn't last long and it has been years since his last date.

Louis couldn't help himself but laugh heartily at Ratchet's expense. Soon, the rest of the Task Force behind him joined in the merriment as Ratchet's face blushed to a more noticeable red and his ears drooped. However, a small, but embarrassed smile never left his face. Always leave it to Louis to embarrass Ratchet on the topic of the opposite sex. Ratchet fought against wild Leviathans and an army of Cragmites without batting an eye. When a woman gives him a compliment and appraises his body, however, he becomes flustered beyond belief.

"Ha, ha…continue laughing at my embarrassment, why don't you?" Ratchet remarked sarcastically, but the soft grin never left his face.

Louis's chuckles soon gradually died down, but his mischievous smile never left his face, either. "Sorry, Ratchet, can't help it," Louis said in-between a few more chuckles. "Anyways, we have a gift for you in the back here, and I think you'll li—"

However, Louis wasn't able to finish, as the dashboard beeped warningly from a radar scan. "Commander!" the pilot barked after reading the data. "We have an unidentified vessel a hundred klicks away from us, portside! It's descending through the atmosphere, into the Kyzil Plateau region! The make and model do not match any data from Coalition or Solana databases!" All sense of relaxation soon left the faces of all of the Task Force agents. They have been replaced with minds of seriousness, combat readiness, and cold, soldier professionalism.

"Bring the image on screen," Louis ordered the pilot, his calm face was now that of a veteran soldier. The pilot nodded and input a few commands on the keyboard. Soon, an image of the unknown craft appeared in their transport's monitors. The unknown vessel was a transport; not too big to gather attention, but enough to carry at least a platoon's worth of soldiers. Louis's augmented eyes scanned the hull of the transport for any identifying marks, and glimpsed an insignia emblazoned on the ship's hull. It was a crimson silhouette of Emperor Tachyon's profile adorned with his crown, the symbol of the Neo-Cragmite Empire.

"Shit…" Louis swore under his breath. He turned to his troops and ordered, "I want you all to go back and gear up! We may encounter hard contact!" After a chorus of "yes, sir's", the Task Force agents went back to get ready for combat.

Ratchet was confused as the agents left, but he knew what hard contact meant. They were about to encounter some sort of conflict with an outside force. His face grew serious as the rest of them, as he asked, "Louis, what is going on?"

Louis turned his attention back to ratchet and looked at him straight into his eyes. Now Louis wasn't on that would beat around the bush. In a deadpanned voice, Louis replied with one word: "Cragmites…"'

Ratchet's ears dropped to his skull and bared his teeth a bit. "Here in Solana? How did they find me?" Ratchet murmured, a faint growl rumbled from his throat. "Why are they after me, though? You're the one that put the bullet in Tachyon's skull."

The grim memory flooded back into Louis's mind. His face soon bore a frown as every detail from the event was relived in his head. Their fight, their victory, his execution on Tachyon with a high caliber handgun, his grim satisfaction as he watched the Emperor's corpse drifted into the worm hole, knowing that his brother was now safe.

"I know…" Louis replied, dourly. "but nonetheless get ready to hold them off. They might be still trying to fulfill Tachyon's old vendetta against Lombaxes. And whatever you do, do _not_ destroy the transport."

"Why not?"

"Because we can hack the ship's data logs from its navigation archives, find out where they came from," Louis replied in a crisped military fashion. "You know the value of intelligence, yeah?"

Ratchet gave a brief nod, as he understood what Louis stated. In the military, intelligence was the key to a decisive victory. Going blind into the field would lead to disastrous consequences. "Understood," Ratchet affirmed. "Just hurry and get your asses over here."

"Give us five mikes, and we'll be ready."

"Nothing takes five minutes, Louis," Ratchet replied, using a well known quote, before he ended the video chat.

Back in the transport, Louis heard metallic footsteps moving towards him. He turned around and saw Lieutenant Locke in his full gear with his helmet tucked underneath his arm.

"So…back into the fray, Commander?" Locke asked.

Louis gave another brief nod as he reached for his helmet on the empty co-pilot's seat. He picked it up and gently placed it over his head. It gave a soft hiss noise as the hermetic seals were activated and became one with the whole set of armor.

"Yes, Lieutenant Locke," Louis replied as his HUD blinked to life in his visor. "Same shit, different day."


	3. Baptism of Fire

**A/N: Hey there. Sorry for the long wait: high school, college applications, and scholarship applications got in the way. Without further ado, enjoy!**

* * *

The Cragmite transport soared in the Veldarian sky. Its occupants geared up and chattered amongst themselves. They all had one goal in mind, something that they've anticipated ever since the death of Percival Tachyon:

Kill Ratchet.

They were nearing their target's location, but they had one more task before their op could begin. Their transport flew to a remote Cliffside that was about half a mile away from the Lombax's home. It landed in front of some rock outcroppings, perfect cover for their sniper team. A pair of Hunter-classed Cragmites, the sniper—carrying a scoped plasma striker crossbow—and his spotter, began to trail down the access ramp.

When they reached the bottom, their platoon leader, a Brute-classed Cragmite, turned to face them. "Ne fodhalují sami ještě ne. Pokud útočnou silou nějak selže, můžete ho dorazit. Rozuměl jste? (Don't reveal yourselves just yet. If the strike-force somehow fails, you finish him off. Understood?)" He barked, spittle flying off of his mouth.

The sharpshooter pair gave a brisk nod, their claws twitching in anticipation. "Ano, velitel, (Yes, commander)" they responded.

"Naše vítězství může přinést strach do srdcí našich nepřátel! (May our victory bring fear to the hearts of our enemies!)"

The two Hunter Cragmites repeated the chant with the rest of their platoon. Soon, they separated their atomic structure, a trait amongst every Cragmite, and traveled in a cloud of particles to the rocky outcroppings. The transport soon lifted back into the air and resumed its course to their destination.

* * *

Ratchet did not waste anytime as soon as he ended the call between him and Louis. He dashed to the door of the armory and inputed the security code at the keypad, tossing away the towel that wrapped around his waist. After a few quick strides, Ratchet reached the display that held his Hyper-Flux armor. He hastily disengaged the locking mechanism of the container and opened it, retrieving the black nano-suit first. The nano-suit was synced to the Heads-Up-Display in the helmet once the entire suit was properly attached, sending information on the biology and condition of the user. It was a tight fit, as Ratchet grunted through clenched teeth as he finally managed to close up the suit once it was on. He must have gained more muscle mass since the last time he used it.

After he double checked his tail went through the opening of the suit properly, Ratchet meticulously placed each armor piece into their respective areas. He already could feel the temperature control of the suit kicked in as he placed the last piece of armor on his body. Ratchet rolled his shoulders and neck to work out the knots in the muscles as his helmet materialized from the base of his neck and encased his head. There was a resounding hiss from the armor as it hermitically sealed Ratchet's body from the outside. The visor soon blinked to life with the rest of the electronics of the Hyper-Flux armor, its screen transmitted a video uplink of what's infront of Ratchet. Soon, diagnostics and the Head's Up Display flashed infront of his eyes; armor integrety, physical condition, maps, ammo count, etc.

"Alright…everything seems to check out," Ratchet mused to himself as he clenched his fingers to test the servos in the joints.

He then went to a crate in one corner where he and Louis kept other supplies such as spare armor parts and combat webbing. He opened the crate and retrieved some combat webbing and attached them to his suit. Since neither Clank nor Clark was there to handle his weapons, Ratchet could only carry a limited amount of gear. He went back to the arsenal and picked out his load out. He slipped on the Omega Constructo-Bomb glove over his left hand and holstered the Omega Constructo-Pistol on his right thigh. Before he left the arsenal, he made one quick stop to one weapon rack: a weathered, matte-black M4 with an ACOG scope. It wasn't any normal M4, though; it was the heavily modified Plasma variant that Louis acquired during his first adventure in Solana. Ratchet picked up the weapon and cradled it in his hands, the weight of what it has been through nearly crushing his shoulders. He then slung it over his shoulders and put the associated magazines into storage pockets on his armor. He then ushered out to the living room to get one more weapon. After reaching the coffee table, the Lombax hefted his old wrench. He tapped it in his hand, the weight familiar in his palms. He then clipped it to his utility belt and headed topside, prepared to face what's to come.

* * *

"Thank you for flying on Leviathan 1-1, I hope you all like foreign foods!" Captain Ramirez announced as he loaded a fresh magazine into his ACR-Gauss. "I'll be your team captain-stewardess today—" He smiled as he fist-bumped an enthusiastic JTF-2 agent. "—also known as first on, last off."

All around him Leviathan agents were gearing up for combat. His second in command, Locke, was assisting a female GROM agent with her armor. Their heavy gunner and third in command, Sergeant Major Burton, was loading the ammo bag for his M27 Infantry Assault Rifle. The bald Delta operator looked up and grinned, giving Staff Sergeant Wyngate, another Delta, a thumbs-up. Wyngate returned the gesture as he filled his ammo compartments with magazines of 12.6 plasma rounds. Louis Ramirez smiled as he scanned his troops as they all did the same.

Ramirez strolled down the aisle, cradling his ACR-Gauss in his arms. "We'll be serving rounds of Seven-Six-Two-Gee with sides of Twelve-Six-Plasma. Followed by the main course: all you can eat Cragmite."

A Russian Spetznaz soldier walked up to Louis and saluted. "Ready to kick some ishaka, Kapitan?"

"Damn right I am." Louis then looked at both Burton and Wyngate. "Sergeants, ready to let the big dogs out?"

Sergeant Burton grinned sadistically and replied, "Yeah! Woof! Woof!" Wyngate simply nodded, an aggressive grin also formed on his face.

"Sixty seconds!" Their pilot announced from his the cockpit. The other Task Force agents quickly finished sealing their power armors and made last quick checks on their weapons.

"Captain," a female Swedish SOG voiced over the troops as she slid a magazine into her weapon. "Any tips on what we're facing?"

"The bugs' weapons are powerful, but the shots are slow enough to dodge. Also watch our flanks; they tend to travel as a cloud of particles for long distances."

"Thirty Seconds!" the pilot warned again.

Louis briefly nodded as he grabbed onto the overhead railing above. "Let's get to work. Go to red!" there was a chorus of "hoorahs" and "yes, sir!" as the rest of the Leviathans followed suite. "This is it people. This is not gonna be simulated fighters or Middle Eastern terrorists…" A green light illuminated on the wall besides the transport's ramp. The access ramp lowered as the roar of the vacuum of space filled the transport. Air gushed out of the compartment and the sun's rays brightly reflected off the patches of water on Veldin and each soldier's visors.

"Welcome to Solana!"

"_Go, go, go_!" the pilot declared.

As soon as the order was given, the Leviathans rushed out of the transport from the front to the back. Once Locke cleared the transport, Louis was the last one in before he joined the jump. He dashed to the edge of the platform and leap out. The pull of the planet's gravitational field directed him and the nineteen other agents to the surface. They all kept their bodies still and erect, heads first so there would be less air resistance to slow them down. Their armors glowed white hot, but they weren't affected as their suit's climate control system kept them cooled. Their HUDs showed the waypoint of Ratchet's location plus their distance from it.

Outside of training, this was their first combat jump together.

This was their baptism of fire.

* * *

Ratchet carefully exited his subterranean home and quickly took cover behind some boulders a couple of meters away. He brought up the assault rifle to his hands and peaked above his cover. All he saw was the rocky cliffs and canyon paths that boarded his home. There were no Cragmites yet, but all was still. There was no sound, not even croaks from the indigenous spiked-toads that nestled throughout the region. It was almost if the universe knows what's going to happen and decided to build up the suspense. Ratchet kept an eye on the path that led to his home while keeping tabs on the radar in his helmet's HUD.

Then after a few strenuous seconds…a red dot appeared on the radar coming in from the north.

The next second…five more dots joined with the first.

And then six…

And then fourteen…for a total of twenty-five hostiles…

Ratchet growled deeply in his throat as his eyes scanned the terrain for any Cragmites. His aqua-green eyes darted from one piece of cover to the next, hoping to find one hostile that's partially exposed. Immediately, his patience paid off; there was one Hunter that had the top of his skull partially above the boulder he hid behind. Ratchet armed the plasma assault rifle and aimed at the Cragmite's head through the scope. The hyper-flux armor's visor also contributed to Ratchet's aim with its own magnification abilities. Ratchet, with one gentle squeeze of the trigger, fired a single bolt of plasma at his target. The plasma-coated slug flew at fast speeds, and soon Ratchet saw the splash of plasma across the Cragmite's head. The Hunter's head jerked back almost like he was punched by a heavyweight boxer as the plasma scorched his face and the actual slug blowing his skull cap cleanly from the rest of the head. A heavy mist of purple blood erupted from where the slug exited. The scent of blood and ozone was picked up by Ratchet's filtration system. The Cragmite Hunter fell backwards to the ground in a sprawl and became limp, like a puppet having its strings cut off.

Then all hell broke loose.

Guttural screeches soon filled the air, the Cragmites enraged from the loss of one of their own. Ratchet then popped back to cover as a barrage of green plasma collided with the boulder he took cover behind. The Lombax winced as he felt chips of the boulder fell on top of his armored head. He decided to wait the assault out for a little bit, hoping for a lull in the attack so he could toss in a grenade. His luck paid off, as there was a small break in between the shots. Ratchet let the assault rifle hang from its strap and produced a grenade from the bomb glove on his left hand. Peering out from cover, he spotted a pair of warriors huddling near a rock wall.

He popped out of his cover for a split second and tossed the grenade in an arc. "Suck on this!" The grenade landed in between the Cragmite pair and detonated. Plasma and white hot shrapnel shredded the duo into bloody ribbons. One Hunter was lying in a pool of his own blood, gaping holes throughout his chest while the other desperately tried to claw away to safety before he bled out, several of his legs and his other arm lost in the explosion.

Ratchet then noticed on the radar that a red dot was close to his position on the right. He turned his head in the general direction of the entity, just in time to see a Cragmite Warrior rematerialized from his cloud of particles. The Cragmite reared back one of his claws and swung at Ratchet's neck, aiming to decapitate him. With no time reach down for the heavy pistol from his holster and the Cragmite was too close for the rifle, Ratchet quickly ducked from the claw, while taking out his wrench from his belt. As soon as the claw missed his head, Ratchet swung the wrench at the Cragmite's stomach. When the Warrior stumbled back a bit, the Lombax spin-stepped forward and followed through with a fluid strike at the Cragmite's sternum with the pommel of his wrench. With the Cragmite effectively stunned, Ratchet dashed at the Warrior and stepped onto his waist and shoulder. Using his inherited agility and armor enhancements, Ratchet pushed off the Cragmite's shoulders, launching himself into the air. Spinning in the air to gain momentum, Ratchet swung his wrench with all his strength at the Cragmite's neck. There was a resounding _thwack _as the hard metal of the wrench made contact with the Warrior's flesh, followed by a loud _snap_ as the spinal cord broke. The Warrior fell to the ground like a rag doll, dead.

Unfortunately, the other Cragmites used that momentarily distraction to close the distance between them and the Lombax. They separated their atomic structure into clouds of particles and soared over to Ratchet's position. When Ratchet soon touched the ground again and noticed them on his radar, it was already too late. They were less than six meters away. The Lombax growled in his throat and lithely removed his heavy pistol from the holster with his free hand. Ratchet wasn't going down without a fight. He spun on the balls of his feet and as soon as the Cragmites rematerialized, Ratchet fired two successive shots into the chests of a pair of Cragmites. The two Cragmites fell to their backs, only had enough time to gape at the plasma burns on their chests before they expired.

Before Ratchet could fire off another round, the Cragmites' platoon leader, a Brute, fired a single shot of green plasma from his shoulder mounted cannons. The plasma collided with the shoulder of Ratchet's gun arm. Ratchet winced as he dropped his gun, his visor's internal speakers screeching with protest as the metal plating on the shoulder melted. Ratchet's eyes scanned the Cragmites and realized they surrounded him, all aiming their weapons at him. With no way to defend himself from the Cragmites, Ratchet had no choice but to surrender. He dropped the wrench and raised his hands above his head as a sign of submission.

The Cragmite Brute chortled deeply as he charged up the shoulder-mounted plasma cannons. "You lose, Lombax…" the Brute growled.

Ratchet stayed calm as his eyes searched for any areas of opportunity. Unfortunately, there were none. Then, there was the sound of howling wind surrounding him and the Cragmites. They looked around, momentarily distracted by the noise, trying to find the source of the phenomenon. Then, his eyes trailed up to the sky and noticed twenty streaks of fire descending to their position. Normally, the Lombax would believe that those were just planetary debris entering the atmosphere. However, it just seemed too convenient for space trash or meteorite fragments to descend to his location. Ratchet's mind quickly processed on the situation, and the realization only caused his eyes to widen underneath his helmet.

"No way…" Ratchet murmured, laced with awe.

* * *

"_100,000 meters!_" Louis informed through the Leviathan's coms. "_On my mark, activate your hover boots to decelerate_."

The Task Force agents continued their descent towards the planet's surface. All of their armors were glowing white-gold from the heat generated by air friction. The distance between them and Ratchet's home was diminishing at an astonishing rate. Their terminal velocity from the orbital drop would kill a normal human, but their augmentations made it possible for the Leviathans. To help with their coming deceleration, the soldiers changed their position so their body was parallel to the ground, with their limbs stretched out to increase the air resistance. All of them waited to reach the threshold altitude to begin their landing.

Eighty thousand meters till touch down…

Forty Thousand…

Ten thousand…

Five thousand…then…

"_Mark!_"

Together as one, the Task Force flipped in the air almost like it was a choreographed spectacle. With the soles of their boots facing the desert floor of Veldin, the Task Force agents activated their hover boots. They immediately felt a strong sense of vertigo in their stomachs, but they suppressed it as their velocities began to slow down. The Cragmites and Ratchet were now in the Task Force's sights; the other soldiers glided to different positions during the descent so that they could form a perimeter around the combat zone once they land. Louis, however, kept his descent towards the back of the Cragmite group so he could offer immediate assistance to Ratchet. Together, the Leviathans landed on the desert floor, a cloud of dust picked up from the thrust of their hover boots.

The Cragmites turned around in confusion at the new entries, trying to see through the thick haze. Before they could determine what was going on, a Cragmite hunter's head suddenly jerked back as a cloud of purple blood erupted from the back of his skull from a Gauss round. As the body fell limply to the ground, the retort of a rifle shot cracked a split-second later after. The rest of the Cragmites were paralyzed with shock as they dumbly stared at the body. As the dust started to clear, a human heavily clad in full body, gray armor held an assault rifle pointed towards the Cragmites, the barrel smoking slightly from the first shot. On the middle of his chest was the rank insignia of Captain, and the name "Ramirez" was stenciled on the left-breast plate.

The Cragmites recognized that name, and all—except the Brute—trembled in fear.

They weren't expecting to see Captain Louis Ramirez, former Marine of the USMC.

"Leviathans…weapons free," Louis ordered coolly.

As soon as the order was given, several bursts of light flashed from within the clouds of dust. Almost immediately, a few Cragmites jerked back from an unknown force before they collapsed to the ground, blood spurting out from their wounds to the chest. The retorts of rifle fire soon echoed through the landscape a split-second later. The rest of the Cragmites were still frozen in shock as the dust began to clear. Surrounding them were nineteen heavily reinforced and armed to the teeth. All with the same goal of eliminating the Cragmites and protecting Ratchet.

After recovering from the brief shock, the Cragmites bellowed a challenging shriek at the Task Force agents. Taking advantage of this distraction, Ratchet got the assault rifle from over his shoulder and fired at the Cragmites while their backs were turned. A few more Cragmites joined their dead. The Brute noticed and snarled at Ratchet as he charged at the Lombax. The rest of the Cragmites then returned fire at the Task Force agents to buy their leader some time to finish off the Lombax. However, it was all in vain for the foot soldiers as the Leviathans systematically eliminated them one by one. Few were lucky to have been killed instantaneously from shots to their heads or hearts. Most were less fortunate as 7.62 Gauss rounds punctured their bodies repeatedly and 12.6 Plasma rounds literally tore limbs from the Cragmites. Some died instantly, others either died from shock or traumatic blood loss. The Brute continued to charge at Ratchet with a raised claw, only his bloodlust fueling his adrenaline.

Ratchet continued to fire rapid shots at the Brute, but the leader won't go down. The Brute took a shot to his shoulder, another to his stomach, and one to where his left lung was. Brutes were a lot tougher than the standard infantry, taking as many shots to kill a regular being several times over. Once the Cragmite Brute was mere feet away, Ratchet let go of the M4 rifle—the rifle sling keeping it close to his side—and his hand reached for his Wrench on the ground. His armor glove's magnetism abilities caused the wrench to fly into his grip, just in time for Ratchet to parry the Cragmite's razor sharp claw. Without missing a beat, Ratchet spin-kicked across the Brute's jaw, forcing him to stumble back a bit. The armored foot knocked out some of the Brute's fangs—blood started to drip down the Cragmite's lips.

Taking opportunity of the dazed Cragmite, Ratchet then jabbed the end of his wrench at the Brute's stomach. The Brute was brought to a brief pause and nearly doubled over as his hands clutched his abdomen. Ratchet took a few steps back for a small running start, and then dashed at the stunned Brute. Once he was in front of him, Ratchet launched himself and slammed his right knee under the Cragmite's chin. The speed from his inherited traits and the momentum from the launch had enough force to make the Brute's head jerk back and stumble. While still in the air, Ratchet turned to the Brute and pressed a button on the handle of the wrench. His Omni-Wrench was modified with an illegal Kinetic Tether attachment during his and Louis's search for Clank and Clark after the fight against Emperor Tachyon. The head of the wrench launched out from the handle—the kinetic tether keeping them attached—and clamped around the neck of the Brute. While falling back to the ground, Ratchet slammed the handle of the wrench to the ground. The kinetic tether acted like a whip; the force of the swing traveled down the tether and the wrench head brought the Brute to the ground. Hard. The Brute slammed to the ground, face first, and a resounding _snap_ resonated through the now silent canyon. He was now completely still, not even a twitch.

Ratchet gave a small huff of relief as he retracted the kinetic tether. The head of the wrench reattached to the handle and Ratchet clipped it back to his belt. However, as he turned around to face the Leviathans, he saw a small glint of light on top of some cliffs half a mile away. Before he could contemplate on what it was, a beam of ionized energy slammed into his bad shoulder. The beam pierced through the armor and out through the back of his shoulder. Ratchet was thrown back to the ground as he hissed in pain, his other hand clutching at the wound. His armored glove was covered in his blood, gripping tightly to lull the bleeding. The smell of cooked meat, ozone, and copper filtered through Ratchet's helmet. He now knew what that glint was.

So did the Leviathans.

"_Sniper!"_ Louis called out. "Ratchet's down, get him to cover and treat his wound!"

A female NAVSOG agent rushed to Ratchet and grabbed him by one of the harnesses of his combat webbing. Ratchet looked up at the agent and saw the National flag of the Philippine Republic above her right breastplate and the name Ravena stenciled on the left. Agent Ravena dragged Ratchet to behind a boulder as the rest of the Task Force got into cover and scanned the area to find the sniper. Ravena checked Ratchet's wound to see if the bullet pierced through cleanly. Once she made sure that there was no other trauma, the agent took out a syringe filled with nanotech from her armor's storage packs. She then jabbed into Ratchet's skin that surrounded the wound, injecting the nanites. Ratchet bit down on his lip to keep himself from groaning as the nanites worked to repair the damage from the sniper shot. Torn muscles were stitched back together and bone regrowth has accelerated. Although it had a numbing agent during the healing process, it was still uncomfortable to Ratchet.

"There we go—good as new," Agent Ravena said as she helped Ratchet into a sitting position.

"Thanks," Ratchet acknowledged cordially. He rolled his healed shoulder to see if there wasn't any permanent nerve damage. Thankfully, there was none. "Anyone got eyes on that sniper?"

"Nyet, comrade Ratchet," a heavily Russian male accent replied.

Ratchet cradled the M4 back in his hands as he took a small peak over the cover he was behind at. His eyes scanned the cliffs again for the glint of light again, just to confirm his suspicions. Immediately, he saw the glint again, and ducked back behind the rock. When his head was barely back behind the boulder, the ionized beam was shot at him again. Thankfully, the round only hit the top of the boulder. The Lombax cringed as he felt chunks of rock pelt against the top of his head.

"Cliffs half a mile north!" Ratchet informed the Task Force.

"Roger that!" Louis acknowledged. He then turned to Burton and Wyngate and ordered, "Sergeants, keep that S.O.B. pinned down!"

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Burton replied. Burton propped his IAR on top of his boulder with a bipod as Wyngate aimed towards the cliffs with his customized 12.7 Heavy Assault Rifle. The two Sergeants unleashed a volley of bullets at the cliffs, keeping the Cragmite snipers pinned down.

"Ratchet, patch me through to Aphelion! She'll provide Close Air Support!"

There was a few tense seconds of radio silence, then the comm system blared to life.

"Louis? When did you get here, and—what's going on down there?!" The female ship AI cried out. "My audio-receptors are picking up sustained gun fire!"

"Aphelion, Ratchet's under attack by Cragmite rebels! The main platoon has been dealt with, but there are snipers in the Cliffside north of our position. I'll transmit the coordinates, and I want you to rain CAS on those assholes!"

"Roger that, Louis! Guess I'm not out of a job just yet!"

Louis poked his head out of cover and looked towards the cliffs where the snipers were pinned. His visor's internal laser guidance system triangulated the distance and coordinates of the location. As soon as that was accomplished, he transmitted the data to Aphelion.

"Data received, Louis!" Aphelion acknowledged through the comm system. "I'm approaching the location for a bombing run!" There was shrill in the air as the Lombax aircraft flew towards the snipers at supersonic speeds.

* * *

"You idiot! You missed the Lombax's head!" the Cragmite spotter chastised his partner.

The sniper snarled at his spotter as he cringed from the chunks of rock hitting his head. They hid behind the boulders on top of the cliffs as soon as the Humans fired at their cover. "Well I'd like to see you try!" the sniper roared.

They were about to continue bickering and yell obscenities at each other, but then a roaring, whirring noise erupted close to them. The Cragmite pair fell silent and looked around to find the source of the noise. They don't know what it was, but they weren't going to stay and find out. Perhaps when there was a lull in the suppression fire, the two snipers could make their escape. However, the barrage of bullets did not end. And the sounds only got louder and louder until…

It was right behind them.

The Cragmites turned to their backs and saw the bow of a Lombax space craft aiming towards them. On both of its wings, proton cannons and missiles were being armed. There was no pilot in its cockpit; the ship's AI was in full control of the aircraft.

Their eyes were frozen in fear. They had nowhere else to run.

"Hello, boys…" the female AI's voice greeted venomously through the speakers.

The Cragmites could only gawk at the ship as it unleashed its payload on them. All they saw was a bright light, and then nothing…

* * *

Ratchet, Louis, and the rest of the Task Force saw the columns of smoke rising from the Cliffside. Burton and Wyngate seized their sustained fire and cautiously got out of cover. Louis and Ratchet also got out of cover as they stared at the cliffs.

Louis placed his first two fingers of his right over where his right ear was. "Aphelion, what's the Bomb Damage Assessment?"

There were a few moments of silence as Aphelion flew around the site to make sure the snipers were dealt with. "Delta Hotel, Louis. Direct hit—no survivors," Aphelion replied.

"Good job, Aphelion. Return back to home."

"Roger that, Louis. Oh, and it's good to hear from you again."

"Likewise, Aphelion, likewise." Louis slung his rifle over his shoulder as he turned to Ratchet. His hands reached for his own helmet and began the release protocol. Air hissed out from the now unlocked seals. The hot, dry desert air filled Louis' senses. It smelt of crusty earth, but Louis' missed it; Veldin was a second home to him as it was to Ratchet. His mind was filled with nostalgia, but he put those thoughts away for the moment and took off his helmet, cradled under his arm. Soft, kind brown eyes gazed towards the Lombax that shuffled towards him.

"Hey, Ratchet…" Louis greeted cordially. "Missed me?"

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review. It helps brighten my day after a long day doing engineering physics from school. That, and the more I get, the more motivated I'll be for writing.**


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